I'll be Home for Christmas
by Storm Silverhand
Summary: Christmas on Seefra. Three pieces on Christmas, Harper, and Beka.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda or any of the characters. I'm just having some fun.

Author's note: This is the first of three short pieces about Christmas on Seefra. And yeah, I know it's not anytime near Christmas, but this just demanded to be written.

**I'll be Home for Christmas**

_I'll be home for Christmas, _

I hate Christmas. I really do. I wouldn't hate it so much, if I didn't love it so much.

Three years in this freakin' system, and not one single decent Christmas.

I hate Christmas. Although that doesn't explain why I can't stop singing this song.

_You can count on me,_

Stupid song. Sure, yeah, count on me all yah like.

Damn, I hate this holiday.

When I was a kid, I loved it. It was the one time of year that we could pretend to be normal. To be safe. Mom and Dad would make us stuff, but it wasn't the presents I loved. It was the whole thing. The atmosphere, the singing, the feeling of belonging and being treasured.

I haven't felt that feeling in a long time.

_Please have snow and mistletoe,_

I miss the snow.

After I left, I missed that miserable planet, more then I ever thought I would. But Beka was always good to me, you know. Always.

I though that would stay the same.

I really don't know when it changed, but it did.

Not just on Seefra, before that, I think. Somewhere along the line, I think that they forgot I was human. They started taking me for granted, just like you would a piece of machinery.

'Something broke? No problem-o! Mr. Harper'll fix it. After we give him some stupid three strike speech that is.' As if I wasn't working hard enough already.

Bastard.

Playing on my biggest fear.

God, I hate him sometimes.

_And presents by the tree_

I looked for them, you know. Every day, when I wasn't busy surviving, I looked.

When they found me, I though maybe they would be glad to see me. Guess I was wrong.

Was I ever wrong.

_Christmas Eve will find me_

Dylan's paying Beka and Rhade, you know. But me? Not a cent. I would do it for no money and they know that.

But it's just another example of how they take advantage of me.

I though that now they were back, this Christmas would be the best.

_Where the love light gleams_

There is nothing I can do. Just wait and watch. Watch my friends drink and destroy themselves.

Huh. After everything, I guess I do still consider them my friends.

It hurts more then they – then she – will ever know... watching them slowing kill themselves inside. Watching Beka slide farther away from me.

I guess there's not much I can do...

_I'll be home for Christmas_

Maybe this Christmas will be better. Maybe it will finally feel like home.

Guess I can dream...

_If only in my dreams..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

The bar was dark, and quiet. They were the only ones there. Them, and Harper, although he sat behind the bar, absently working. His mind was somewhere else, she knew. She thought he probably didn't even remember they were there with him.

It was quiet. At least until a soft song floated through the room. She started, looking around, seeing the others do the same. Her eyes came to rest on the source.

Harper. Was singing! Oh, she'd heard him sing before, but never like this. Always in that slightly joking way, never singing seriously. Almost trying to sound bad.

She'd thought he couldn't sing.

And was now surprised.

Because this song, one from Earth, she thought, was sung beautifully.

She'd never known he could sing. Made her wonder what else she didn't know.

Glanced at the others, saw the same thoughts reflected in their eyes.

Looked back at the lone figure by the bar. Funny how apart they seemed now. Not just the physical difference, the width of the room, but emotionally.

He never talked to her any more. She wasn't sure she'd been all that inviting, but she did have to admit to herself that she missed him.

Missed his quirky personality, the jokes, the easy companionship. Hell, she even missed the trouble he always seemed to attract.

Missed the person, and realised that this had happened before Seefra.

He looked older, she though. Then realised, really understood.

Three years.

It never occurred to her, never sunk in. Harper is now three years older, compared to her six months.

And she shuddered then. Those six months had not been pleasant. She could not imagine three years.

She remembered the loneliness, the feeling of betrayal. Of abandonment, when no one came to save her.

For the first time, she wondered how Harper had felt. He'd seemed so much the same. It had never registered, never seemed real, that he'd spent three years in a place that had almost destroyed her is six months, and Rhade in only three.

She continued to study her friend at the bar. She really looked at him, for the first time in a long time.

Saw what she hadn't wanted to see. Saw some of herself reflected in him.

And winced at the way he sung the last words of the song. She could hear the longing in his voice for something. No, not something . . . for home.

Blinked back the tears that had made a sudden appearance. Harper was a gifted singer and the emotion he put into this song would break your heart.

She remembered that he'd always loved Christmas, insisting that they celebrate. She smiled slightly. Those Christmases were some of the best memories she had.

For the first time, in a long time, Beka Valentine came alive. Plots filled her head. Christmas plots.

She couldn't think of a better time to start mending relationships.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thank you to my sister for all the Beta-ing. And thank you to all who reviewed.

I'll be Home for Christmas, Part 3

"Damn!" Harper cursed as the stupid tree that had cost him an arm and a leg crashed to the ground. Sighing, he tried once again to get it upright in its stand.

And failed.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Nursing bruised fingers, Harper glared at the tree, vowing revenge, and decided it was time for a strategic retreat.

Sighing once again, Harper took a break. And nearly broke his neck on one of the bottles of snow-in-a-can that littered the room. Sweeping aside tinsel that was shredded beyond almost all recognition, he sat.

Sitting at that bar, he surveyed his domain. He'd spent all night decorating.

It looked like crap.

"I just don't get it! It was always so easy before!" Harper complained to the air. Then again, he'd always had his family, or Trance or Rommie to help before.

Glaring at the ugly room, he tried to think up an accurate description. The best he could come up with was that it looked like a baboon's ass exploded all over the room.

Definitely not Christmas-y.

"Damn," he muttered once more. Wishing he had some help, but realising that since he wasn't sure any one was even going to come, Harper got up with a groan and marched over his new arch-enemy: The Christmas Tree From Hell.

"I'll get you, my pretty! And your little dog too!" Cackling manically, Harper once more tried to hoist the tree up. His efforts were rewarded with a slap in the face from one of the branches.

"Hey! I wasn't touching anything I shouldn't have been," Harper scolded the tree as he scrambled to get a proper grip. He tried once again to hoist the tree up and as he stood there sweating and cursing, he wondered why the hell he was even going to all this effort.

It wasn't like any of them would come. They'd never wanted to celebrate Christmas. Every year he made them. And every year, the rolled their eyes and "allowed" themselves to be dragged into the holiday spirit. As if he was too stupid to see the superior holier-then-thou attitude that they sported the entire time.

Still, he'd thought Beka had always enjoyed it.

And yet he'd been wrong about so many things with her so recently.

The more he thought about it, the more depressed he got. Of course none of them would come. The Tree From Hell shook and groaned, dragging him from his thoughts.

Consciously pulling himself out of his melancholy, Harper decided that he didn't care if no one came. He would have a Christmas celebration himself, by himself, for himself.

And with that Harper went back to his tree wrestling, something he had decided should be a new Olympic sport.

After a few minutes (and bruises and scrapes and curses, not to mention lines from old B movies), Harper was no closer to getting The Christmas Tree From Hell up, than he was when he'd started.

"What I wouldn't give to be two feet taller and built like Rhade," Harper groused and promptly spat out pine needles.

He was interrupted from the "you'll be sorry for all the trouble you've given me" speech he was giving The Tree From Hell by a loud knocking at the door. Grumbling, Harper left off with a mumbled "don't go anywhere" to The Tree, and went to answer the door.

"Beka?" Harper did an admirable imitation of a fish as he viewed the pilot and the presents in her arms.

"Hey Harper, Merry Christmas! Need a hand?"


End file.
